


warmth

by darlingafterdark (ADarlingWrites)



Series: darlingafterdark's den of iniquity [2]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Choking, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, F/M, Loss of Virginity, Nipple Licking, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Spanking, Table Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 22:24:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADarlingWrites/pseuds/darlingafterdark
Summary: A newcomer in the Entity's realm quickly learns that the nights are cold and endless, so she sets her eyes on Evan Macmillan to remedy that.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: This fic is an exploration of my DbD Killer OC Delilah Davis and the nature of her relationship with Evan before I finalize her story, but I changed it to a second-person perspective to put the readers in her shoes. I'm also attempting to humanize the Trapper a little, to celebrate the future arrival of the Archives which features his story first.
> 
> Also, this is an excuse to write shameless, shameless smut. I am so sorry, BHVR.

If there is something you thoroughly disliked in the Entity’s realm, it’s definitely the never-ending cold. Though the fire that never burns out continue to shine in the camp, you never had an opportunity to huddle over and warm your bones; partly due to your position as one of the Entity’s cats in its endless game of cat-and-mouse, and partly due to the reality that there would be probably none to share that warmth with you. Moreover, the people you are forced to terrorize hate and fear you, and you’re still coming to terms with that new reality.

You never intended your life to end this way, stuck in a realm with no regard for time and space, with no one to hold or turn to. The dreams you once had of becoming a renowned singer and performer quickly dissolved when you’ve experienced first-hand the exploitation and discrimination within the industry, and it has forced your hand to snuff out the lives of the people whom you thought were the friends you can rely on. For this reason, this otherworldly creature deemed you fit to kill more, despite the blood in your hands coming from trying to protect yourself. In your attempt to escape the men who would retaliate due to your crime, it took you in a dark fog, and now you’re here.

It took numerous adjustments and excruciating punishment, but you finally bent to the creature’s will, surrendering and becoming one of the monsters you refused to associate with. If there was one person who helped you transition into your new role, it was one of your fellow killers, Evan Macmillan.

In a previous life, you’ve learned about this man through newspaper clippings and rumors. It was over half a decade after the tragedy in the Macmillan Estate happened, and yet it’s still being whispered ominously among the youth and the old alike, passing it from person to person, state to state, generation to generation, twisting the story into an urban legend. The legend was so pervasive that it reached your ears as a child, despite the crime happening states away and years ago.

You quickly came to find out that the rumors surrounding Macmillan’s physicality were indeed true; he is a mountain of a man, easily two heads taller than you, and perhaps thrice as broad. When you awakened in this realm, a man in a garish clown attire, complete with the face paint, confronted you, mistaking you as another survivor he can victimize. When you swung your switchblade at him, he clearly was in for a surprise. Before any more violence could erupt, a hulking figure with a frightening bone-white mask intervened, and with brute force. The Clown was sent flying a few feet away as he shoved him, and with a vexed groan, he stood up, shook the dust off his costume, and walked away, leaving you stunned as Evan faced you and introduced himself.

Though the creature communicated to you subconsciously its goals and its role for you, it was Evan who let you out of the dark regarding this disorienting new “home” you have. Any refusal to partake in the creature’s game was met by Evan’s ominous warnings of punishment from the “Entity”. As expected, it was harsh and ruthless when you decided that you are not playing along. The injuries you sustained were severe, and yet you didn’t succumb to them. Evan had another of his killer acquaintances patch you up, a floating woman with an old nurse’s uniform, which you recognize to be from decades ago. The civility between two murderers baffled you; it never crossed your mind that they are capable of such.

Perhaps some of them are just like you, normal people with normal lives, forced into circumstances that compromised their morals, making them ripe for the picking of this “Entity”. The fact that Evan can hold a polite conversation with you is enough to convince you. Even in this horrid place, perhaps you can have some companions.

But not all of them are like Evan. The Clown should be enough to prove that, but when you met a knife to the chest by another of the Entity’s cats, a man easily as mountainous as Evan is, with an unnerving rubber mask and blue coveralls, it comes as another painful lesson. When you awakened, Evan is beside you, muttering an apology like a gentleman, and telling you that he will set the man he referred to as “Myers” straight, and leaves.

You are at bewilderment at the kindness Evan shows you, if it can be called as such. You’ve watched how he worked in trials; ruthless, efficient, and driven, much like his description in the urban legends surrounding him. You never expected such a violent, hulking brute of a man to bring scavenged sweets to what seems to be the youngest killer in the camp, a girl probably three or four years your junior with vibrant pink hair and odd clothing. You never expected a ruthless man of industry to huddle with a cold, blue girl dressed in nothing but tattered bandages and comfort her like a father would to his child. Consequently, the stories that reached your ears began to dismantle itself the more you spent your time around Evan.

Any strictness and domineering behavior he shows regarding your duties as killers quickly becomes understood to you as protectiveness; he doesn’t want anyone under his wing suffering from that wretched creature due to under-performing in what they call trials. You’ve come to accept that behavior graciously, and variations of “I told you so” can be heard from the Killer’s de facto head to those who don’t.

Evan taking on an almost patriarchal role among you killers made you ponder on his state of mind. Is this his way of coping with the new reality he’s forced to face? An extension of his role from his previous life?

You never dared to ask.


	2. Chapter 2

Though you’ve lost track of how much time has passed since you came into the realm, you are certain that the eternal night of the realm only seemed to grow colder, and its becoming unbearable. Your teeth chatters despite miraculously finding the fur coat your manager once gave you. Perhaps the Entity was rewarding you for becoming its steadfast servant, but the chill is still severe.

In the time you spent in the realm, you quickly learn that the fires that exist within the realm are nothing but shoddy imitations; though it provided light, it never provided warmth, nor it burned to the touch. It’s a pathetic mimicry of something that sustains life; perhaps there is no life here, and both killers and survivors alike are nothing but hollow shells of who they were before the nightmare? Though you’d love to ponder further about the nature of this realm, the cold begins gnawing at your bones and made it difficult to mull over anything. Worse, it’s not just the physical kind of cold that tortures you so.

Human touch is something most killers are deprived of. You can observe the survivors at their camp huddling together for warmth, and yet the only glimpses of physical comfort you saw among your own are from that ragtag group of teenagers sharing it among themselves, Sally and Philip’s rendezvouses, and Evan’s occasional touches.

With his reputation, you doubt Evan is doing it for the sake of enjoying another person’s company; he confirms this when he tells you that the only reason he comforts Rin is to keep her going, afraid that her despair would render her ineffective and would result to punishment from the Entity. If it was out of goodwill or him applying what he knows to manage employees to keep productivity at maximum, you were never quite sure. But the touches and his encouragement for you to do better began to dwell in your daydreams.

The newspaper clippings of Evan showed him as a handsome young man with a square jaw and strong nose, certainly attractive to multitudes of women, if it wasn’t for his instability when his father’s business began to crumble. You wonder if he still retains some semblance of those dashing looks, despite the horrific torture he endured in this realm when he refused to submit long ago. Soon enough, fantasies of having an affair with the man surfaces from your subconscious.

Philip and Sally’s affair is an open secret, but no one dares to talk about it. If anything though, it convinces you that perhaps you can have them in this realm. The question would be if Evan would agree to a dalliance. He is no stranger to beautiful women in his youth due to his looks and status, no doubt, but you aren’t certain if it even ever crossed his mind in this hellish realm, with the way he tries to run the place.

Yet, you desire to pursue him, throwing away all caution to the wind, no longer paying mind to the strict Catholic upbringing you had under your mother’s tutelage. If this realm is hell, you might as well sin.

Your arrival to the Macmillan Estate, or the Entity’s flawed recreation of it, came as a surprise to Evan, whose attention is focused on the bear trap he is repairing on his workbench. With caution, you approached, wearing the mask you used to disguise yourself in the masquerade ball your socialite friends coaxed you to attend, your mink coat, and the red dress your manager deemed too risqué to wear in the cabaret. It was baffling and unpractical to kill with this attire, but the Entity paid no heed to practicality; its very existence is beyond the logic of mortals after all. For the moment, however, it served its purpose well, for it stopped Evan in his tracks.

“Miss Davis,” he politely greets, respectfully averting his gaze from you. Notwithstanding the violence and murder, he is still ever a gentleman.

“Mister Macmillan,” you greet back, pushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Still hard at work, I see.”

Evan folds his arms on his chest; you can’t help but take in the sight of his flexing muscles. “The work never ends, you know that,” he tersely replies as you sauntered over the workbench and propped yourself at the edge. “What brings you here?”

A hot lump of coal forms in your throat as you try to relay your intentions. This situation is unfamiliar to you; though you acted sultry on stage, it was merely an act; you are fairly inexperienced, your gender still unspoiled. All of a sudden, you felt like a youngster once again, lost in a flurry of emotions.

“Miss Davis,” Evan finally speaks up, becoming impatient at your silence. “I’m a busy man. Out with it.”

Oh, you love his direct nature. It bolstered your own resolve. What Evan didn’t expect is for you to speak with your body; your hand caressing his chest and closing the distance between your bodies. His mouth opens to speak, but you press a finger to his lips. A groan rumbles from his chest, and his breaths deepen; the situation becomes apparent to him. “I need warmth, Evan.”

“Are you seducing me, Miss Davis?” he asks tersely, one large hand making its way to the small of your back. Perhaps he is starved of human touch as well, judging from how quickly he responds.

“What if I am, Evan?”

“I’m unsure about the period you came from, Delilah, but in my time, a woman this direct is scandalous,” he says, in a teasing way. Leaning into his ear on your tiptoes, you whisper back. “What if I want to be scandalous, Evan?”

The man pulls away, looking at you with bewildered interest. “We’re no longer confined to what’s expected of us, darling,” you croon, taking your mask off and setting it on the table, revealing your face to him for the first time. “No one can stop us from giving in to… this.”

“Are you certain?”


	3. Chapter 3

Evan’s question stops you in your tracks. “What do you mean?”

Huffing, he pulls away from your touch, turning away to face his workbench. He clears the bear trap, his interest to work diminishing due to your presence. “Delilah, as much as I want to indulge you, _it_ may not approve of such,” he pauses to cough. “Frivolities.”

“It didn’t stop Philip and Sally, or Frank and Julie,” you dared to say, and his head turns abruptly at your mention of it. “Keep quiet,” he whispers. “That thing… it can see a lot, but it’s not all-knowing,” he continues almost solemnly, as if the words he utters are taboo. Perhaps they are.

“You say that this ‘Entity’ feeds on our desire to kill, all of our emotions,” you dared to answer back. “Are these desires not? If anything, they will benefit _it.”_

“I’d rather not know how would it react to dalliances among us killers, Delilah. From experience, any direct intervention from it tends to get ugly,” Evan moves closer, placing both of his rough palms on your fur-clad shoulders. “It would be wise if we never speak of this again.”

“Are you afraid, Evan?”

“I need to be. You’ve seen what that thing has done to us. To _me_,” he firmly tells you, pointing at his scars and the hooks embedded in his flesh.

“And yet it hasn’t touched any of us for having affairs. What else do you have to lose, Evan?” you ask, the question getting under his skin by the way he tenses up. “Are you afraid that a little fun will make you rusty, is that it? That your status as one of _it’s _most efficient killers would diminish if you relax for your own benefit?”

Everything happened in a blur. The next thing you know, you are pressed firmly against the wall, his cleaver is embedded beside your face. “Did I touch a nerve?”

He has no answer. Evan merely lifted the mask from his face, anger and resignation evident in his features. Though marred by the otherworldly creature whom he submits to, his face still retains the same charm it had as a wealthy heir to his father. His eyes are hardened by experience, his gaze intense and penetrating. Before you can process what is happening, his lips falls on yours, and passionately, almost furiously, he kisses you. You almost gasp as his tongue shamelessly invades your mouth, and soon enough you were fighting him for dominance.

He breaks the kiss to ask one question. “Why me?”

“You make me feel safe.”

A chuckle leaves his lips before he dives in to suck at the skin of your neck, earning him a moan. “You have a funny way of defining safety, toots.”

A giggle escaped your lips at the pet name. As he returns to his ministrations, you shrug off your coat, exposing yourself to the chill. And yet, everything is warm now that you’re in Evan’s arms. Rough, calloused digits make quick work of the fastenings of your dress, and soon enough, you are down to your undergarments. All your previous inhibitions dissipated and you began to undo them until you were bare, and Evan steps back to marvel at your exposed skin, the appendage at his crotch responding positively to the view before him. “You like what you see?”

Eagerly, he nods and props you on the workbench, straddling you. Without uttering another word, he cups one of your breasts and another hand pulls at your hair, forcing you to look at him in the eye. “Better than what I imagined,” he croons, voice low, before running his hot tongue on your collarbone, down to your pebbling nipples, and he proceeded to suck at the hardened nubs.

“You imagined me naked?” you breathed out as your body sang from the way he made you feel.

He pauses from his ministrations, replacing his mouth with his thumb. “Hard not to.”

As you were formulating a witty retort, a sharp gasp escapes your lips when his other hand runs up your thighs, up to where your legs meet. “You said you want to be scandalous, Miss Davis?” he teases as he dips one finger between the folds. Almost involuntarily, you spread your legs further apart, allowing him more access. He circles the sensitive spot, your breath becoming labored from the attention. “Yes, yes, oh _fuck_, daddy, yes.”

Upon hearing what you called him, Evan grinned and placed one hand around your neck, the other still firmly rubbing away shamelessly at the sensitive nub between your thighs. “Keep calling me that, toots, and I might forget my gentlemanly manners.”

“That’s exactly what I want, daddy,” you croon. His grip tightened around your neck, self-control wearing thin.

“You want to act like a filthy whore for me, Delilah?”

“Yes, daddy. Please, treat me like one. Make me yours.”

Evan doesn’t need to be told twice. With amazing strength, he swoops you from the workbench with one arm, and forces you to kneel in front of him. He unfastens his overalls, letting it fall and pool around his ankles, and his thick cock springs free from its confines. The sight of it had you in awe; you’ve only seen drawn ones in tijuana bibles you’d smuggle from your brother’s stash as a teen. Evan is a beast, impressive in both length and girth.

“Suck.”

Almost with hesitation, you grasped at his length, and tentatively licks the underside of his shaft, all the way up to the tip, mimicking what you saw in those palm-sized, pornographic comic books. You swelled with pride when he groans, running his hand through your hair, mussing up your pristine hairstyle. “You’re doing fine. Get it wet. Put your lips together and try to take in as much as you can,” Evan instructs, and you obediently nod. With your tongue, you slick his cock with your saliva, and purses your lips at the angry red tip, sucking in an experimental fashion before taking it as far as you can manage, choking and coughing when it hits your throat. Evan soothes you by petting your hair, and you try again once more, sucking him at a steady pace.

“That’s it… good girl.”


	4. Chapter 4

The praise made you overconfident, and you made the mistake of letting his cock graze one of your molars.“Watch the teeth, toots,” Evan hissed, grasping at your hair to pull you away from his member. “S-sorry,” is all you can mutter, and to make it up to him, you licked at his balls, gently sucking them and squeezing them, earning you satisfied grunts rumbling from his chest. The beast of a man shoves his cock back into your mouth and fucked it as he looked deeply into your eyes, the intensity enough to make you moan as you serviced him.

Being shamelessly used like this made your womanhood quiver, your nipples pebble-hard from the chill and the way this degradation turns you on. Soon enough, he is grunting and twitching as he neared release, and his warm, salty lust fills your mouth, painting your tongue white. The rest spilled down your chin, almost daring to fall to the ground below. “Ah, ah, don’t waste a single drop of it.”

It was too late; though you did your best to swallow all of his come, there is too much, and some of it dripped down your breasts, some at the ground. “Tsk. Not as good as I thought,” he teased, roughly handling you and bending you over the workbench. “Daddy needs to discipline this girl.”

Before any protests can escape your lips, a heavy hand struck at your bottom, making you yelp. “One, for the teeth,” he crooned, before spanking you once more. “Two, for not obeying me,” he continues, making you cry as his palm made your ass red. “Three, for being such a whore.”

You were breathing heavily, tears beading around your eyes, when you felt the same heavy hands spread your cheeks apart. Gasping as his tongue darted between your folds you taste you, you braced yourself against the table, shameless moans daring to escape your lips as Evan expertly ate your pussy. One of his digits penetrates you, and the combined sensations of his tongue and his fingers drives you wild, making you thrash and writhe against the surface of the workbench. “Mmm, definitely a virgin. A whore for daddy and daddy only, yes?”

“Yes, yes, _yes, _only yours daddy,” you managed to choke out, already nearing climax.

With a few more expert ministrations, Evan sends you over the edge, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He doesn’t stop until you beg for mercy, and he watches as you fall limp against the workbench, spent from the intense release he gave you. Proud of his handiwork, Evan bends over to kiss your neck tenderly.

“Are you ready for more, doll?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“I’ll give you more.”

Unsurprising for a virile man, Evan’s cock is back to being hardened with just a few strokes. He teases with the tip of his head, and without warning, pushes in slowly, making you cry and whimper at his size. The pain was almost unbearable; you were certain that blood is trickling down your thigh despite the lubrication. He looks down at where your body joins his, and groans. He thrusts deep and slow, one hand reaching to caress your breast and roll your nipples, the other firmly entangled in your hair. “Fuck, it was a good idea giving in to what you wanted,” he finally admits as he fucked you from behind at such a torturously slow pace. The pain dulled into an uncomfortable pressure, but soon enough, it started to feel pleasurable.

After a few deliciously slow thrusts, Evan quickens his pace, rutting against you with a raw, primal hunger, your glistening womanhood making obscene squelches as he pumped himself deep, all the while whispering filthy, wicked things into your ear. His strength is so immense that your feet are no longer touching the ground, your entire weighed supported only by his cock and the hand he moves to your neck to choke you, forcing you to look at him.

As you neared your second climax, his other hand flew to your crotch and began rubbing furiously. The combined friction of his fingers and his cock pumping in and out of your pussy is enough to send you over the edge once more, eyes widening to stare directly into his, full of unbridled lust. Your release coaxed him into his own, and his thick come fills you, warm and decadent.

Both of you slumped forward on the workbench, spent and panting. Planting kisses all over your neck and upper back, Evan admires his handiwork once more. He gently holds you by the neck and presses the back of your head against his chest, before leaning over and kissing you deeply. Evan recovers first, straightening up and pulling his overalls back as you continued to rest on the table. After a short moment, you feel your coat over your shoulders, and Evan turns you around and picks you up like a bride. On the rudimentary bed near the workbench, you lie in his arms, savoring the afterglow of your bliss together. For a moment, this realm isn’t so hellish.

Somewhere, in a place where logic ceases to exist, the Entity peers into your stolen moments, detached and observing. Whether it is concerned about the nature of your activity didn’t matter; it thrived on the feelings your wicked lovemaking and affection produced, feeding into it greedily. And that was enough. In the Entity’s realm, you only needed to keep it fed; there are no judging eyes upon you except its own. As long the Entity is sated, it let you experience the warmth you craved.


End file.
